Dark Phoenix
by kaji21
Summary: The peace that was brought about by Voldemort's downfall has lasted for nine years - and just as the world was finally forgetting the darkness, the shadows return once more. Powerful!Harry and friends, but their enemies are stronger too. HHr
1. Prologue

So here we go with another HP fic, hopefully I get to finish it this time. (This is a new account for me btw) Anyways, I do hope you enjoy this and if you could review that would be great. I like to get feedback.

**kaji21**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Potterverse that JK Rowling created.**  
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**Prologue**

It was done. Finished. Over.

Voldemort was dead, his Death Eaters captured, killed, or disappeared - for with his death the Dark Mark dissipated from his followers. Essentially, those who supported him but were not caught were free. Some chose to pretend as if they never supported him at all, others left the country. Still others tried to find some other master to follow.

The papers heralded the victory of the Golden Trio over Voldemort and his supporters. They lauded them with praise, honors, awards, and all sorts of gifts. They were called heroes, and Harry specifically was named a Champion of Britain, a title Rita Skeeter supplied and the public ate up with a frenzy. Everyone was happy, and though there were lives lost and mourning to be done, the future was once again bright thanks to their efforts.

When most of the people had finished mourning, the partying began. The revelry was spectacular, and for a while it seemed almost as if the whole war never happened. Of course, the rebuilding and healing process was still ongoing, but the people were enjoying their freedom from the clutches of the Dark Lord.

Ron ate it all up. He loved the attention; he was finally more than just another Weasley. He was a hero, and along with that came fame, privileges, and wealth. Oh, he loved that part. He quickly used this to earn sponsorship deals and got himself onto the Chudley Cannons as their new keeper, a dream come true for him.

Hermione, as always, kept a level head and did not let it get to her. She knew there was still evil out there, and while that evil was not as great – or as direct – a threat to the people they were still a threat. She went back to Hogwarts to finish her education, after which she stayed to help rebuild the castle and assist Headmaster McGonagall and the remaining staff.

Harry stayed to mourn those he had lost, and the revelry never caught up to him. He never smiled since he beat Voldemort, or Tom as he liked to call him. What he never told anyone was that when the deed was done, when Voldemort finally died, Harry saw something. His scar burned with a passion, and in those final moments as Voldemort slipped away, Harry saw one last time into the Dark Lord's mind. He wasn't sure if what he saw was real, but he had thought long and hard on this matter and concluded that a dying man, especially one who died so quickly, would not have been able to fabricate such a lie and have Harry see it. It was therefore very real. Voldemort was only one piece of the greater picture. There was someone far worse, working behind the scenes and pulling the strings. A puppet master.

Voldemort's defeat set back the plan, and from what Harry saw, this... puppeteer was far worse than Tom ever was. Harry only saw a glimpse of what he could only assume was merely part of the plan, and from what he saw he would need to be ready. He needed to be stronger, faster... deadlier.

That was why, one month after Tom's defeat, he disappeared. No one knew where he went. Many tried to find him, dozens of unconfirmed sightings of him were reported all across the globe. Everyone was left to wonder where he had gone and what he was doing. Eventually, people started to move on. His name went from the front page to the middle of the paper and finally to a small section in the back where the latest reported sightings of him were posted. The Champion of Britain, the Boy-Who-Lived, had finally escaped the limelight. Unfortunately, he'd return to it once more...

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**AN: **Writing an HP fic again.. this time I intend to finish it. I promise.


	2. Has It Really Been 9 Years?

I appreciate the reviews, as I said I like to get feedback. I hope you find my story to be a good read.

**kaji21**

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**Has It Really Been 9 Years?**

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry..._**  
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Really interesting stuff. That's what Hermione Jean Granger, or Professor Granger, liked to describe what she researched in her spare time. It was accurate in describing both of the activities that she actually did when she had the time, namely studying the very fundamental fabric of magic and looking for one Harry James Potter. Unlike what seemed like the rest of Wizarding Britain, Hermione had not given up on the hunt for the famous Champion of Britain. Unlike the rest of the world, Harry had actually left her a note - a short one at that, but it was still better than nothing.

She was in her office, poring over an old tome she found in the Headmaster's library titled _Theories on Magical Energy_. Beside the overly large ancient book was a notebook about half of its size with carefully written notes in neat handwriting. Gone were the smudges that used to plague writing on any piece of paper with a quill and ink as they were no longer used. While they were allowed, and some people preferred to use them, more people had begun to use actual pens, and one such pen was held in her hand.

As she was carefully flipping the page, a light knock sounded from the door and interrupted her train of thought.

"Come in!" she called, wondering who it was. It had to be one of the faculty though since it was summer time.

The door opened and in stepped Headmistress McGonagall. The initial years after the battle had not been kind to her, and though she was feeling better now and looked improved, she was still a little more worse for wear than before it. The death of Dumbledore had hit her hard, as it had most people, but her pain was probably one of the hardest. In fact, Hermione and the others thought there may have been some slight romance in the relationship between the late headmaster and her.

"Hermione, dear. I thought you might be awake," she said, her voice still strong. She smiled at the young professor, who smiled back and waved to one of the seats in the room. The Headmistress shook her head, preferring to stand.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Minerva?" Hermione asked, still cringing a little inside calling the elder witch by her first name - it just didn't seem right.

The older witch walked over to the rolling blackboard in her room, the side facing her empty. She pulled on it and turned it around, and smiled sadly as she saw what was on the other side of the board.

Hermione seemed a little embarrassed, but kept her composure and watched as the Headmistress ran a hand over the many news articles, images, and pieces of paper and parchment with notes on them. Then she looked at the large map of the world that was placed right in the middle of the board. On the map were several circles drawn in with notes written nearby. Several dozen arrows and lines crossed over the map and the whole thing resembled a detective's case board with all the leads and suspects and whatnot.

In this case there was only one suspect: Harry Potter. His face was all over from the newspaper clippings and his name was practically all over as well. A single picture, an actual picture, caught McGonagall's eye and she touched it briefly, her eyes tearing up slightly. It was of the three of them - Harry, Ron, and Hermione laughing and waving at the camera.

"You didn't give up, did you?" she whispered, still looking at the board.

Hermione shook her head, even though she knew that the Headmistress didn't see her do so, "No, I never did."

McGonagall finally turned around and sat down on one of the chairs facing Hermione's desk. Clasping her hands together, elbows on the armrests, she looked, still slightly teary-eyed, at Hermione and gave her a small smile again. "He'll be back" she said, almost uncertain, "How are you, dear?"

The young professor absentmindedly brushed a lock of her brown hair away, her eyes looking down at the book she had been reading moments before. She sighed, "I'm fine," and she repeated that when the Headmistress gave her a look, "No really, I am. I'm just... well, I don't know. I love my research, it's interesting to study theories of magic and whatnot..."

"But you wish you could be doing something else," McGonagall finished for her, smiling still.

Hermione scrunched her face up a little and then nodded slightly, "Yeah... I guess. The thing is, I don't know what I would do though. I mean, it's not that I don't like my job here Headmistress, don't get me wrong..."

McGonagall chuckled lightly, "Minerva, Hermione. Call me Minerva. And no, I understand completely. Your classes have few students as it is, which is... unfortunate but understandable, given the nature of your subject matter." The elder witch paused for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, before she spoke again, "You are a brilliant witch, Hermione. One of the brightest Hogwarts has ever seen. You are most definitely meant to do great things, you _already have _done great things. I appreciate what you did and commend you for coming back to finish your studies here and to help me get Hogwarts back to some semblance of normal, but you and I both know that you cannot stay here forever. You have to move on sometime, go on to do something great once more."

"But what?" Hermione asked, and then she smiled wryly, "You don't happen to know of any Dark Lords that need slaying do you?"

McGonagall shook her head, "Fortunately, no, not that I am aware of anyway," she replied, "Hermione dear, you can stay here as long as you wish. You know you are welcome here anytime, but when you find something... when you feel like it's time, then you should and can leave. I won't hold you here... goodness knows if I could do that anyway."

Hermione nodded slowly, her eyes transfixed on a small clock on her desk, the seconds hand ticking away tirelessly. "Thank you, Minerva. I... appreciate that. I'll of course let you know if I will be leaving," she said, the two of them locking eyes, one with a slight twinkle in her's much like her predecessor's. "What do you think he's doing out there?" she suddenly blurted out, almost regrettably, but the Headmistress smiled again at her.

She turned to look out the window, as if she could somehow zoom in on wherever Harry Potter was at the moment and see what he was doing. "Being a hero, probably," she replied, slightly amused at that thought.

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Hermione was out on her morning jog several days later, enjoying the start of a beautiful day, when a snow white owl flew by her, causing her to slow down to a stop. Panting, she looked around and saw the owl turning back and heading for her. The witch smiled and stretched out her hand slightly to give the owl an easier time. Sure enough, the white owl landed on her arm and hooted in greeting, tilting her head from side to side as she looked at Hermione.

"Hey Hedwig, how are you girl?" she said, stroking the beautiful owl with her free hand.

Hooting, as if to reply to her, Hedwig leaned slightly and stuck out one of her legs. A small piece of parchment was attached to it.

Intrigued, Hermione took it from her and unwrapped and unfolded the letter. It read:

_Hey Hermione!_

_Great to hear from you girl! Goodness, sometimes I wonder if you're reading the whole library - which you probably are. Why are you still at school again?_

_Anyways, I wanted to tell you that this Saturday, which you probably already know, is Ginny's 26th birthday. What you might not know is that I managed to move her party over to my place. Naturally, you're invited and I hope you can make it. We haven't seen you in ages! Well, I have to go now I'll hopefully see you this Saturday._

_Your best friend,_

_Ron_

_PS - I may have forgotten about Hedwig for a bit... sorry about that. Good thing I have a House Elf, eh?_

Hermione shook her head disapprovingly at that last bit. Although she knew that the House Elves would probably not be able to survive well without servitude because it is so ingrained into them, she still felt that it was wrong that they were like slaves. Thankfully, at least, she had managed to get some laws passed that regulated the treatment of House Elves. While there was some outroar about it, as was to be expected, the bill passed with a vast majority of the Wizengamot voting for it - one of the few times Hermione ever used her newfound fame and influence.

She knew it was Ginny's birthday Saturday, the 11th of August, and had been planning to get her a gift for some time. It was already Wednesday, she realized, so she would need to get her a present quickly. She thought of all the gifts she could possibly get and that she would appreciate, but there were so many or at least there seemed to be so many that she wasn't sure which one to get.

Hooting again and bringing Hermione out of her thoughts, Hedwig took off, her wings flapping lightly as she sailed towards the Owlery.

Determined to find a gift that very day, Hermione continued on and finished her jog. A trip to Diagon Alley was in order.

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Saturday night came rolling around soon enough, and Hermione spent some time preparing for it. Making sure her gift was all nice and wrapped, she picked out a simple but elegant white dress and had straightened out fully her naturally curly hair. She had long ago found a shampoo that managed to reign in her notoriously bushy and curly hair, and it was now easier to handle and nicer, at least in her opinion, to look at. A little make-up, nothing too excessive, and she was done. While she still spent a little over an hour getting ready, it was still a far cry from the three hours or so that Ginny or Lavender took, though she wasn't sure if they prepared faster, slower, or the same nowadays. She had not seen them in a while, and even then she would always see them at wherever they were going to meet at, never during the preparation stages of going out.

Satisfied with the way she looked, she headed for her special apparition point, her magical signature having been attuned to the castle wards and allowing her to slide through them. It gave the weird squeezing sensation, as if she were being squeezed out of and into a tube whenever she apparated, but it was better than going all the way out to the edge of the grounds and do that.

A moment later and she found herself, with a slight pop, in front of a large mansion surrounded by tall, ivy-covered stone walls. An unnecessarily large - at least to her - gate stood before her, doors wide open. On the doors was a large golden RW. Laughter and the sound of what seemed like dozens of people could be heard emanating from beyond the gates. Two serious-looking wizards stood on either side of the gate, eying her with a little suspicion before they finally recognized her and relaxed a bit. Present tucked inside her purse, she entered the mansion.

Ron's House Elf, Teady, greeted her by the large wooden main doors, one of which was open. Hermione greeted the elf, noting that he was actually dressed nicely. The elf then said he could put her present with the others and she nodded at that as she handed it to him. A slight pop and the elf was gone before returning a few seconds later with another pop. By then, Hermione was already inside and walking through the main hall of the mansion.

There were balloons everywhere along with a charm that had glittering confetti continuously falling from the sky - at least in the main hall, and the confetti disappeared as soon as it hit the ground so it would not create a mess.

Following the music, Hermione walked down a side hall before she finally entered what seemed like the main party area. She hadn't been to Ron's house in a while, and though she had gone several times in the past she had never really seen all of it.

It was a large ballroom, with beautiful marble floors, and it actually reminded her of the Main Hall at Hogwarts. The ceiling had been enchanted much in the same way to show the night sky outside and there were hundreds of candles floating overhead as well. There seemed to be a hundred people in the room at least, and Hermione shook her head at the size of the party. Had it been her birthday, she probably would have had 20 people or so.

A voice called her name then, causing her to turn and squeal slightly as Ginny herself recognized her first.

"Hermione! Oh my gosh, you made it!" she laughed as they embraced each other, "You look good girl! Damn!" at which Hermione laughed.

"You look stunning, as always, Ginny," she replied back, looking her over. She wore some simple but elegant jewelry and a beautiful red dress that hugged her curves and with matching high heels. She looked good, her body toned from Quidditch - she played for the Holyhead Harpies now - and she had always been pretty.

Waving her hand at the crowd around them, Hermione then said, "Wonderful party you have here, by the way."

Ginny rolled her eyes, one of her hands checking on her braided bun that she had her hair in, "To be honest, I don't know half the people here. Ron invited a lot of his friends, but they've all been nice at least. Have you eaten yet?" she suddenly asked and without waiting for a reply grabbed Hermione's hand and dragged her off to sit with her.

About half an hour later of catching up while they ate, even Ginny apparently hadn't eaten yet because she had been busy entertaining the guests and talking to people, Hermione finally leaned back in her chair, her appetite satiated. She nodded at something Ginny had said, though her mind was drifting off a little. Perhaps the wine was finally hitting her.

The twins suddenly appeared next to them, yelling "Surprise!" and making them yelp a little.

"Oh, looks like we got them, Fred," said one of them, who was probably George then.

"Right you are, George. Or are you Fred and I'm George?" said the other, causing Hermione to look confused. She could never really tell.

Ginny glared daggers at them while Hermione shook her head and giggled at their antics.

"Was that really necessary Fred? George?" Ginny said, looking at each one as she said their names. She always knew which one was which.

They raised their hands in surrender, "Okay, Gin. You got us, but really we wanted to tell you guys..." George said.

"... that the show is about to begin and you should..." Fred continued.

"... get outside and find a nice spot to watch. See you there!" George finished, and just as quickly as they appeared they left, heading into the crowd.

Ginny and Hermione shared a quizzical look, "Show?" Hermione mouthed. Ginny shrugged, "Ron didn't tell me what the plans were. He just told me to show up... which in hindsight might not have been the best idea, hopefully he didn't plan anything stupid..."

Hermione grinned at that statement, "They haven't changed much," she remarked about the twins.

The youngest Weasley agreed, "Yep, they haven't aged a day... mentally, at least."

"Is George still with Angelina?"

"Yep, still haven't popped the question yet after all these years. Everyone's expecting it anytime now, and Angelina says that she doesn't mind waiting, though she does want to get it over with already," Ginny explained, "They're madly in love."

Hermione gave her a confused look, "So if they're madly in love... why hasn't he asked yet?"

Ginny shrugged, "Beats me."

"How about Fred?"

"He's seeing someone, I'm not sure if you know her. Shelly Taylor, she's from America and works in the Ministry. I like her."

They talked for another few minutes before they both made their way outside along with a number of other people. The backyard was huge and there was a large pool and a garden out back. Hermione saw that there were some new statues placed around the garden since the last time she had been there. Looking around, they spotted the twins who were busy with a cartload of something in the middle of the yard. Finally, one of them stepped back and, grinning, threw some things into the air. Those things turned out to be fireworks, and for the next twenty minutes they were treated to a fantastic and highly entertaining fireworks display featuring all the best from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, which they shamelessly promoted the entire time and even after the show.

It was then that Ron found them, stumbling a little bit as he walked over, a large grin on his face.

"Herms! You're here! And Gin, wasn't that the best damn fireworks display?" he said, placing an arm around each of them.

Hermione sighed, "Nice to see you too, Ron. Didn't I tell you I do not want to be called 'Herms'?"

He nodded and took a few seconds to gather himself, "Yeah, sorry 'bout that.." and then, still grinning, he said, "Do you want to... dance?"

Ginny looked at Hermione and shook her head slightly, and Hermione said, "Err... maybe later, Ron."

The tall redhead nodded and finally excused himself when Ginny mentioned that there was a cute blond girl eying him on the dance floor. Both of them laughed at that, though he _was_ quite the playboy nowadays from what Hermione was hearing. She laughed a little inside as her mind drifted back to when they were, for a time, dating. It, of course, didn't work out at all.

"By the way, where are your parents?" asked Hermione as they went to get more drinks. She had been expecting to see them tonight, but had yet to see them at all.

"Well dad's out of the country on some important Ministry matter. You know, he's the Secretary for Ministry Affairs now... and mum was over earlier but she didn't want to stay for the party," replied the youngest Weasley, tilting her head in thought as she did so and then nodding to reaffirm that.

Hermione wondered what Ministry business Mr. Weasley was conducting overseas. As the Secretary for Ministry Affairs he was the fifth-highest ranking person in the government (there was the Minister, the Chief of the Wizengamot, the Secretary of Magical Law Enforcement, the head of the Department of Mysteries, and then him the Secretary for Ministry Affairs) - an enormous promotion considering his previous employment.

Several hours later, most of the people had left while a few people were passed out in different places, and the only ones still awake were the two girls and Ron, who himself was barely conscious. They were out on one of the balconies of the mansion, the two girls leaning on the railing and looking out at the night while Ron was lying down on one of the reclining chairs, mumbling every now and then to himself.

"Has it really been nine years, Ginny?" Hermione whispered, her thoughts going back to their school years and the war.

Ginny nodded, "Yeah... it's been a while, Hermione."

The young professor looked up at the stars, wondering what Harry was doing and if he was okay. She had never really told him her feelings, though to be fair she did not know what she really felt for him either. She knew that she cared for him a great deal, but that didn't necessarily mean the big 'L' word. At least, she wasn't sure if it was.

"You think he's coming back?" Ginny asked, catching her off guard with the question as she had indeed been thinking of Harry. She wondered for a moment if Ginny still had feelings for him, then brushed those thoughts aside. If she did, that was not really her business.

Not knowing what to say, she eventually whispered, "I hope so."

They stayed there in silence for quite some time until Ron finally drifted off into a deep sleep. They could tell because of his notoriously loud snoring, which shattered the silence and broke up the moment. Shaking their heads at him in both annoyance and amusement, they walked back inside. Nine years later and he was still basically the same old Ron.

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**AN: **So these first few chapters will be relatively slow, establishing what's changed over the years (and what hasn't) and introducing some new characters. We won't see Harry for a little bit yet, but don't worry he's on the horizon... so to speak.


	3. Ministry Affairs

So the first chapter was from Hermione's POV, this one is more from Ron's and the Weasley's. The next few will be more general, but I will be focusing more on Hermione until of course Harry gets into the picture. Then I will focus more on the two of them. Again, don't worry he's coming soon.

**kaji21**

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**Ministry Affairs  
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_Ron Weasley's Mansion, the next day..._**  
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Ron groaned. His stomach felt queasy and his head was throbbing. He hated mornings like this. Though his eyes were closed, a bright light was trying to pound its way in and it made his head hurt even more while also annoying him. He vaguely remembered what happened the night before. Had he fallen asleep outside? The warmth of his body seemed to confirm that suspicion as only sunlight could really do that... or possibly a spell, though he was more sure of the former.

Turning over onto his side, he carefully opened one eye, and sure enough he found himself out on one of his balconies. The sun was shining brightly overhead, and he realized just how hot it was then. His body told him to move out of the sun - he could already feel a slight sunburn from his exposed skin - but his mind would not cooperate.

Groaning again, he finally mustered the will to get off the reclined seat and trudge inside.

"Teady..." he coughed, his throat dry.

A pop resounded nearby and he saw, fuzzily, his house elf appear. "Yes, Master Weasley? You called Teady?" he said.

Ron nodded, groaning again, "Hangover.." he finally managed to say as he stumbled onto a comfy couch. He wasn't even sure where exactly he was in his house.

A few minutes later, Teady returned with a funny-smelling, cold drink and handed it over to Ron. He crinkled his nose as the smell assaulted it, but he knew he had to drink it if he was going to function at all today. Steeling himself, he forced the thick liquid down in a matter of seconds. It was both disgusting and refreshing at the same time, and the effects were evident soon after he had consumed the drink; it was the best hangover 'cure' money could buy. His vision cleared up and the throbbing in his head turned into a dull ache.

"Thanks, Teady.." he said, looking genuinely appreciative towards the house elf, "Now could you get me some water please? And ready me my usual breakfast. What time is it?"

Teady bowed, "As you say, master Weasley. And it is currently one in the afternoon," and with that the elf disappeared with a pop, returning later with a glass of water, and then disappearing again.

Ron gulped down the water, clearing his palette while also refreshing him and wetting his throat. He felt much better than he did a few minutes prior. Looking around, he realized that he was in one of the many living rooms of the house. He stood up, grabbing the armrest of the couch for support, and finding that he could stand with little trouble he began to walk towards his room.

He entered the large bedroom, which had a living room built into it and a large master bathroom connected off to the side. There were several nice couches and tables, a few paintings here and there (mostly of Quidditch), and an oak king-sized bed with eight pillows neatly placed by the headboard. A rather large walk-in closet full of all his clothes and equipment was set on the same side as the bathroom and a fireplace was in the corner near the door, opposite most of the living room furniture. Opposite the side of the room with the bathroom was the balcony, which overlooked his huge backyard. Sunlight streamed through the windows and the glass doors that led to the balcony, which had several deck chairs and a glass table with wood frames.

On one of the coffee tables was his meal, several plates full of food. There was a plate with a large stack of bacon, one with three eggs cooked over-easy, some sausage and some potato cubes. There were also two glasses of water, a glass of pumpkin juice (one of his favorites), and some coffee.

Mentally thanking Teady, he pulled the couch a little closer to the table and started to eat. While most people thought of things while they ate, Ron did not. All he thought about was the food in front of him, and so it was not until he finished that he noticed there were a stack of letters next to the tray of food. Licking his fingers and then wiping them on the napkins provided, he reached for the stack and looked through it.

He had some letters from the companies that sponsored him, no doubt offering him some more free items or thanking him for accepting their sponsorship. He threw those aside. One letter just had his name and address on it, with no return address. Another was from Hogwarts. Curious about the unknown letter, he opened it up and unfolded the parchment found within.

He turned it over and over, confused, as there was nothing on it except some kind drawing. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was actually a paw print - but of what he was not certain. Not knowing what to make of it, he tossed it aside. Probably some prank mail of some sort.

The letter from Hogwarts asked him if he would be a guest speaker at a program that they were hosting the following week, _The Golden Trio: A Tribute_, it was called. He'd have to see his plans, though he would like to attend that. No doubt there would be some important people there, not to mention lots of fans and the press. He loved to chat with the press and his fans after all.

Reading that invitation made him think of the three of them. They went through _a lot_ together, and he grinned as he thought of all the mischief they were up to... and all the trouble they got themselves into. Well, it was mostly Harry's fault... okay well, not really his fault but if it were not for him they would not have been involved in all that mess. He didn't regret it but he also didn't think Harry was not to blame for any of it. Thinking of his best friend, or at least former best friend - it has been 9 years since he last saw him after all, made him wonder what he was up to. Why did he leave? He had originally thought it was to garner even more attention and intrigue, and though he had learned long ago that Harry did not like the limelight and given a choice he would have chosen a normal life over the one he had lived and was living, he still could not help but feel that it was all part of his plan to basically be "the most interesting man in the world" as he liked to put it. After all, who was more famous, and thus interesting, than Harry once the war was over and he had beaten the Dark Lord?

He still shivered a little whenever he thought about the Dark Lord. Though he was dead, he still could not bring himself to say his name. It seemed silly to everyone who knew about it; it was something he just could not get over, and he didn't mind it at all.

The fireplace suddenly burst to life with yellow flames, indicating that his security 'firewall' was screening it, but then turned to green, which meant that whoever was trying to reach him was on his allowed list. The head of his father appeared then, a small smile on his face, though his eyes looked grim.

Ron greeted him with a wave and asked what he was calling him for.

"Ronald, I need to see you immediately. Could you come to my office?" replied his father, "I don't trust the floo network. We're still trying to clear it of any dark tampering that happened, and it's still not very secure..."

Groaning inwardly, he nodded, "Sure thing, dad."

"_Now_, Ronald. It is important." With that the flames died down, leaving only smoking embers and a confused and grumpy redhead sitting across from it. He hated going to the Ministry, security was a pain and it reminded him too much of the war that he would rather not think about too much. He also hated it because it was at the Department of Mysteries that he had been... attacked by that brain thing. He couldn't even remember much of it, only finding out what happened from others, though he knew something was wrong.

They never figured out what the brain thing did to him while he was unconscious and in its grasp. There was no evidence of anything tampered with in his mental or physical state. Besides the memory lapse and the slight illness and weakness he felt right after the incident, he was fine. He still did not like to think about it, and he always ended up thinking about it whenever he went there.

"Wouldn't do to keep dad waiting, I guess..." Ron finally said as he stood up and walked, still somewhat off-balance, towards his closet.

* * *

Arthur Weasley massaged his forehead as he read through the document in his hand. It was a report on current Ministry manpower. Aurors were still in short supply; The Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been devastated during the war and there were considerably few aurors left after the final battle. In an effort to help rebuild magical England, foreign ministries sent any wizards and witches they could spare. Unbeknownst to the public, the Ministry had even hired some freelancers, or as some called them, 'mercenaries', in order to fill in for the missing manpower.

Some of them worked out splendidly, others were alright, but there were a few that should never have been hired. They were the true mercenaries, and thankfully most of them had been rooted out. Only a handful remained, careful enough not to get caught doing anything illegal, but others could tell they were not a right lot. Thankfully, the past nine years saw a steady increase in Ministry workers. Though they were still a little undermanned in some areas, most essential services and departments were operating at pre-war levels. The only issue was the DMLE, with only about 50 new aurors joining in the last nine years - dreadful numbers to say the least. Before the war there were at least 250 aurors in England, now there were roughly half that. As the number of British aurors increased, more foreign magical law enforcement agents left to return to their home countries. Now only about 30 foreign agents remained, with roughly 100 British aurors.

What bothered Arthur with it is that it may not be enough...

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts, and he put the document down as he called for the person to come in. His son, Ron, tall and filled out thanks to Quidditch, walked in.

"What's the matter, dad?" Ron asked. On the way over he thought about the way his dad asked him to come over and realized that something must have been bothering him.

Arthur leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face with both hands as he sighed. How could he best say this?

"Ron, son... you must promise me that what I am about to say will not go beyond these walls. I have already told Molly," he paused, "And we decided it would be best to tell you. _However_, you must not tell your siblings. Though I suspect Charlie and Bill may know of these things already..."

Ron felt worried and confused. There was definitely something wrong... something bad. He could sense it, but what?

Breathing in deeply, Arthur told him what he knew. "We have... confirmed that there is at least some kind of new leader of a dark group, on mainland Europe. Originally, there were disappearances, disturbances, the occasional death. Eventually, the number and frequency of these attacks grew, and there was evidence of not only dark magic, but magical creatures involved. Evidence collected thus far suggests werewolves and possibly some rogue Dementors," he leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk, eyes staring straight at Ron, who was completely still. "We're not sure who they are or what they want. We're not even sure where they are operating, for all we know they could already be in England. And goodness knows we're not ready for another war. Nine years may have seemed like a long time but the Ministry is barely running at its pre-war level," he continued, "The reason I have been sent abroad many times is that we are communicating more with foreign ministries on this matter - it isn't just confined to England anymore. All of Europe seems to be their battleground."

The youngest male Weasley felt numb inside, he had thought that there would be no more fighting or wars for the remainder of his years. He thought that the Dark Lord was the last one of his generation. Why did this have to happen again? The last war was bad enough, but this time, from the way his father described the situation, it seemed even worse. "Why tell me this? Am I supposed to do something about it?" he asked after taking a moment to process the information.

"As the Secretary for Ministry Affairs, I help run the administrative side of the Ministry and make sure everything goes smoothly. In certain cases, the Minister assigns me major projects to oversee, as you know I was put in charge of the rebuilding efforts of the Ministry and Diagon Alley," said Arthur, "My newest project is to ensure the safety of Britain from this new threat and I... want you to help me."

"Bloody hell. You're serious?" came the unbelieving reply.

His father nodded, "I'm afraid so, son."

"Why me? I mean... yeah, sure I was in the last war... but I mean, there's a bunch of other people too. Why not Hermione or Lupin?"

"Hermione is a brilliant witch, no doubt about that, and I may ask for her help as well. However, for the time being you are my choice," his dad said.

"And Lupin...?"

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, "I tried. He's disappeared and no one knows where he is. Tonks is gone too, their flat is completely empty. No signs of foul play; they just left... and it looks like they left sometime recently."

Yep, definitely worse this time around. Bad enough that it made Lupin and Tonks go into hiding... or did they 'disappear' too? Ron couldn't believe that it was real. He thought he left that all behind once the bastard Dark Lord was dead. He turned to his dad, "Give me a day to... to think, dad. This is a lot to take in."

The elder Weasley walked over to him and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Take the rest of today and tomorrow to think about it, but I expect you here bright and early two days from now. Don't let me down, Ronald."

Head spinning slightly, this time not from the alcohol, Ron left the office. He did not notice anything around him as he walked, his legs basically going on auto-pilot. He had a lot to think about.

Arthur watched him leave, half-sitting and half-leaning on the table as he crossed his arms, eyes still looking at the closed door. He wondered if he should have asked Hermione first, but brushed that thought aside. His son would do a stellar job... once he got his act together. Hopefully, that would be soon enough.

* * *

**AN: **I really don't like Ron all that much, however I believe he is a generally nice guy and has pretty good potential. He's just a bit misguided and immature. Over a nine year span he's changed a little. Still immature, but prone to more serious and mature lapses. He's not as thick anymore, however relative to Harry and Hermione he's definitely not the sharpest tool in the box. As I said, this fic will focus more on Harry and Hermione, who I personally believe is the better ship than Ron/Hermione. I don't know what JK Rowling was thinking... thanks for all the reviews.


	4. Watching Eyes

Wow, it has been a very long time. And in the period between I last updated I have grown and changed much. That said, I intend to continue this story to the end - though it may take a few months. I hope you can bear with me, but there are many other things in my life nowadays and it is difficult to find time to write. Especially since I have, in that endeavor, spread myself thin by writing too many stories all at once.

Read on!

**kaji21**

* * *

**Watching Eyes**

_A few days later..._**  
**

Hermione was talking about how wands manipulated magical energy and how spoken spells helped to focus that energy into whatever that spell was intended to do. Though as usual, half her mind was occupied elsewhere as she taught.

Her class consisted of five students; they were the brightest of the school, three from Ravenclaw and one each from Gryffindor and Slytherin. Though Slytherin House was still tainted, at least in reputation, by the actions of Voldemort there has been a greater move to integrate and accept those students who were sorted into that House.

The school could no longer afford to have fragmentation and discord. A greater emphasis on unity and acceptance permeated Hogwarts, and Hermione was proud of that.

"Excuse me, Professor," said a young girl from Ravenclaw who was in her Sixth Year. Her name was Kristen Nieman. "But how exactly do our words shape spells? And what about wandless or wordless magic?"

Hermione turned and smiled at her, pleased by her curiosity. "Well, Miss Nieman, those two skills all depend on not only the power of the wizard or witch but also on their discipline and training. Any wizard or witch can learn silent casting, though the effort and training involved will of course vary. Not everyone, however, can learn to do wandless magic." She paused, letting that sink in a little, and then continued, "Spells are formed by channeling magical energy through a focus, generally a wand or staff, and then a word, or words, are then used to shape that energy into a spell."

"The reason most people speak out loud as they cast is because it is much easier, and safer. Saying a spell also makes you think and become more conscious about it. You are essentially more focused on that spell and on the intent. Any deviation or any less concentration would result in a failed spell or the wrong spell. Since it is easier and safer to say your spells out loud it is of course the most common, but with enough practice and discipline one could learn to cast silently.

"As for wandless magic, that is rarely achieved through practice and more often than not is simply a result of your innate abilities. There have been wizards and witches who have managed to wandlessly cast magic without being born with the natural ability to do so, but they studied and trained for many years to succeed in that. Again, it comes down to a matter of ease and simplicity. A magical focus such as a wand allows a witch or wizard to more easily and readily channel the magical energies within and around them.

"Wandless magic works in that you have trained your body to be more attuned to the magic that flows not only inside of you but around you as well. You are then able to manipulate this magic and use whatever part of your body as a focus, though 99% of the time it is your hands or fingers. It takes an incredible amount of mental discipline to safely and successfully cast wandless magic."

Nodding, Kristen was not done with her questioning, "I see, Professor. But what about accidental magic by young children? How is it that they are able to do wandless magic without hurting themselves?"

Hermione smiled again, "A great question, Miss Nieman. The first thing I would have to say is that not all accidental magic by young children has been safe in that there have been instances of uncontrollable magic that hurts the casters themselves. That said, you are right that most of the time they are not harmed as they wandlessly manipulate the magic around them.

While there has not been too extensive of a study into why this is so, it is theorized that because they have not become accustomed to wands their bodies are more in tune with the magical energies that surround them. Especially in times of great duress or excitement, they may accidentally tap into their connection with magic and manipulate it through their sheer force of will and imagination.

I am sure you know that when a little kid really wants something, they are try as hard as they can to get it or do it. This desire is compounded when they are under emotional stress, which is often the case with accidental magic use, and just like a balloon steadily being inflated it will eventually explode and release all that energy placed inside of it."

Satisfied with the answer, Kristen thanked her, finishing writing down what Hermione had been saying.

The bell rang then, and the students began to pack their things.

"Don't forget that you must research the magical properties of your wand cores and hand in three pages worth by next class!" she told them as they began to shuffle out of the room.

She was soon back in her office reading the latest news from the small stack of newspapers on her desk. As she was finishing the first one, a tapping on her window interrupted her reading.

Looking up she saw a dark brown owl, arguably almost black from the dark shade of her feathers.

Large, cold eyes watched her as she opened the window. The owl did not budge from the window sill, but extender its leg out, a small rolled up piece of paper tied to its leg.

She took it from the owl, thanking it, and as soon as she did so the owl turned and took flight. Not so much as a blink or a hoot in reply before she left, soaring high into the sky.

Hermione, puzzled by the letter, wordlessly waved her hand over the letter as she cast a few spells to inspect the letter. Satisfied that there were no spells or enchantments laid upon it, she unrolled it. A black paw or claw print of some animal dominated the piece of paper.

"What is this?" she asked no one in particular, her curiosity instantly piqued.

* * *

Ron was perturbed by what he had learned over the past few days. He had acquiesced to his father's request and tried to help him with this new project... this new _war_. The thought made him cringe slightly. He leaned back in his chair, reclining it, and interlocked his hands behind his head as he wondered what the future would bring.

He was broken out of his thoughts by a large envelope being thrown onto his desk.

Brian Morell had walked into his study in his mansion. He was a heavy-set man about 5 feet 10 inches with broad shoulders and thick arms. Wild unruly dark brown hair that went past his ears was the first thing one noticed upon looking at him, followed by his steely gaze and set jaw. He was a formidable wizard, and a great fighter of non-magical means as well, having been trained in the U.S.

His face was grim, "The Swedish Ministry just informed us that the head of their Magical Law Enforcement Agency is missing. No evidence of any struggle at his home nor any signs of anything distressing him before he disappeared. It's almost as if he vanished into thin air... almost.."

Ron knew what he meant by that, and again he felt his mind unsettled. "I'm assuming they've searched his home thoroughly?"

A quick nod answered his query.

"So we're stuck at a dead end. Again."

"Not quite," said another person who entered the room. She was a short women with raven-black hair, hard blue eyes, and an almond-shaped face that curved down to a small chin. She was slim but had well toned muscles, and was just as deadly as Brian. She, however, was English.

"How so?"

"From all those who have gone missing, besides many of them being government officials, we have found something in common," she delayed saying it a little further.

"And?" Ron said, slightly irritated. He hated how she beat around the bush for too long - he wanted answers.

She gave a slight grin as she pointed to the unopened envelope on his desk, "Aren't you going to open it?"

He let out a breath of frustration at her, but proceeded to open the envelope. Taking out the contents, what he saw stunned him beyond measure as his eyes grew wide and mouth hung slightly agape. His heart seemed to skip a beat and his mind was slow to move.

"No..." he managed to whisper, much to the confusion of the other two in the room.

* * *

Hermione tossed and turned that night, and unable to sleep she decided to stay up and try to do some work. When her mind failed to be productive, as her thoughts kept straying and she found it hard to focus, she decided to just lie in bed and rest.

Why did she feel so restless? She could not quite place it, but there was something wrong.

Finally, she could no longer stand it and she walked out of her room and into her living room. Her accommodations at Hogwarts were fantastic, larger than the old quarters the professors used to have since parts of the castle had to be rebuilt and in the process they had expanded it.

She grabbed some cookies from a box that was on a table and proceeded to munch on it as she wordlessly lit the fireplace. Sinking into the couch, she grabbed one of the pillows and hugged it, staring at the fire as her thoughts churned.

It was after some time that she finally realized why she felt uneasy. She felt like she was being watched.

Her eyes darted around, scrutinizing, as her magic welled up inside of her. Tendrils of which she sent out silently around her quarters. Searching. Probing. After a few minutes, she found nothing, but she still felt as if someone, or _something_, was watching her.

She shook her head and closed her eyes, "I'm just being paranoid," she said aloud. Though she wasn't quite sure if that was true. It had been many years since the war, and in that span her power had grown, but she always trusted her instincts and her senses and she was not about to doubt them now.

Heading back into her room she made sure she had her wand with her. While she could cast wandlessly, it was definitely easier to do so with a wand and she was much faster at her casting with it. Feeling a bit more secure with it at her side, she again scanned her quarters. She felt eyes watching her more strongly watch her now, but from where and how she could not say.

She looked out her window, eyes trying to pierce into the darkness, and suddenly as if realizing that she was aware of being watched the feeling abated. She felt the gaze of whoever was watching shift and disappear entirely. It was a strange feeling, but one that had her heartbeat up.

She stayed up the rest of the night, still wary of what had just transpired. Hogwarts was still not as safe as it used to be, and she realized that now.

She would have to talk to the McGonagall about it.

The next day came soon enough, with sunlight streaming in through the lone window in her bedroom. Hermione realized she had slipped into a light sleep sometime earlier, but awoke as the sunlight brightened her room. Thankfully, it was a Saturday and that meant no classes.

She yawned, stretching out like a cat as she rubbed her tired eyes.

Suddenly, Crookshanks appeared out of nowhere, large eyes watching her with concern. He purred, nimbly jumping onto her bed and looking again with concern.

"Hey Crookshanks," she greeted him with a tired smile, running a hand carefully down his back.

Her day started off rather slowly, as she ate in silence. Consumed by her thoughts, she sat at her small dining table even well after she had finished eating.

A few minutes later she pulled out the Marauder's Map, which had surprisingly updated itself to include the new additions to the castle, and located the Headmistress in her office. A brisk walk later and she was outside about to rap on the door when McGonagall called to her from inside.

"Good morning, Hermione," she greeted warmly as she sipped on some tea. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Hermione shifted uneasily, and McGonagall could sense something was bothering her.

"What is it dear?"

The young professor finally told her what happened the previous night, sparing no details.

McGonagall put her tea down, her lips pursed in a thin line as her eyes twinkled, almost Dumbledore-like. "Strange..." she finally spoke after about a minute of silence, "and yo are sure of this?" she asked, her eyes squinting slightly at the young witch.

Hermione nodded, "I am certain."

McGonagall let out a sigh. "Well, dear Hermione, as you know the great wards that used to protect Hogwarts before the war had been destroyed and torn down. We have restored what we could and added some new ones, but you are right to suspect that Hogwarts is not as safe as it used to be, even now." She paused a moment. "That said I will consult with the other Headmasters on the matter. I suggest that you be highly cautious from now on, though I know you already know what you should do and you can no doubt handle yourself. But it does serve to be cautious still."

Hermione's mouth twisted into a small smile, "Constant vigilance. I know it well."

The Headmistress gave a slight nod at that and a small, nostalgic smile. "I will also check on the wards and protections of the castle, to make sure they have not been tampered with, though I doubt that could happen without us knowing."

After chatting on less serious matters, Hermione excused herself and went back to her room. Her exhaustion finally getting the best of her, she plopped herself onto her bed and began to drift off into sleep. And the first thing she began to dream of were a pair of bright yellow eyes, watching her silently.

* * *

**AN: **I hope that this chapter and the next can make up for my long absence.


	5. The Reapers

Two chapters in one day? You don't say!

**kaji21**

* * *

**The Reapers**

Ron had volunteered his home as a safe house for the new Special Operations division of the DMLE, and that was why in his living room were ten of the best wizards and witches in Britain at the moment. All of them were Aurors save two: a Brazilian man by the name of Marcel Frankle and a Greek who gave his name only as Thessanos.

There was the American Brian Morell and the short raven-haired woman whose name was Kathryn Murrell - who was British. Their last names were pronounced the same, so at first everyone thought they were related, but that thought was quickly corrected as they straightened things out by telling everyone they were not kin.

Then there was an Irishman, Dan Finan, whose bright red hair seemed orange in the light. He supposedly was a master of wards and enchantments. The rest were British.

Neville Longbottom, who turned out to be quite the fine Auror after the war. His parents were still confined in St. Mungo's, but they would be proud of the man he had become.

Susan Bones, following in the footsteps of her mother who was a great Auror herself, Amelia Bones.

Reggie Hanks, a large man whose girth deceived any who saw him for he was quicker and stronger than he looked. He supposedly went toe-to-toe with a troll once and bested it with only his bare hands.

Maximillian Ponder, a tall, skinny fellow at over 6 and a half feet and darting eyes. He was a master dueler and could wield any blade with ease and skill.

And finally there was Marie Fontos, a pretty lady with curly brunette locks whose ability to sneak around anywhere undetected was apparently unmatched in Britain.

Ron cleared his throat, silencing the room which a moment before had been alive with the murmurs of discussion. All eyes locked on him, the leader of this Alpha Platoon of the SpecOps division.

"It has come to our attention that this unknown organization out there is using these... calling cards," he tried to find the right words to use, "To mark their targets. Whether it is to abduct them or to kill them, or perhaps both, we are uncertain as we have yet to find any bodies nor receive any demands."

His mind was still churning over what he had learned. Earlier, when he had called everyone to meet, he had gone upstairs to his room where that strange letter he received before lay on a desk. There, identical to all the others in the envelope he had opened earlier, lay the card marked with what looked like a black claw of some kind. He had yet to tell anyone about it, and he was not sure who to tell.

For all he knew one of those in the room, or perhaps more, was out to get him. He could not help but feel extra paranoid now that he knew he was marked, but at least this time he would be ready for it. Whatever may come, he was sure he could handle it, for they could no longer take him completely by surprise as they had most assuredly done to the others.

"So what's the plan, Ron?" asked Neville, looking a bit uneasy, "How do we fight an enemy we don't know and have never seen?"

"Agreed," said Susan, "It was one thing fighting the Death Eaters; we knew who and what they were. This," she hesitated, "This is something else."

Reggie chuckled, "Are you afraid, little one?"

With flashing eyes Susan scowled at him ever so slightly, "I fear not, but I am not stupid. We dare not rush blindly into a fight we know nothing about, especially when we don't even know _who_ we're fighting!"

The large man bowed his head slightly in apology, but said nothing, as all eyes returned to Ron again.

He shifted his weight uneasily in his chair, elbows resting on the table and hands clasped together beneath his chin. "We have to find out who they are. We must search every crevice and dark place, overturn every stone, open any book, and ask anyone who might be of help," he replied finally, "You are right, we cannot fight against an enemy we don't even know, so our first priority is to identify who and what they are."

"Use whatever contacts you have and follow any and all leads about any suspicious activity. We are in for a lot of work people, and it will not be easy."

He looked at each one of them, holding their gaze for a few seconds each, as he began to speak again. "This is extremely dangerous, not only because we are going up against an unknown enemy but because there are so few of us. So always stay vigilant." He paused for effect, and then dismissed them.

His house emptied save for the two guards who stood at the gate, ever watchful. Ron stood at the front doors as he watched his team leave. The guards nodded slightly to acknowledge them, their backs stiff as their gazes swept across the front area of the gate.

"Seal the gate," Ron called to them, "And don't let anyone in without my say."

They nodded and without a word proceeded to close the great steel gates. Once closed, strong wards activated as well as several enchantments all across the mansion and particularly along the walls.

Satisfied, Ron walked back in, unaware of the bright yellow eyes that watched him closely.

Several days passed, and very little information was found, at least from those who had reported back already. Thessanos and Dan Finan were yet to return from wherever they had gone, and Ron was beginning to worry. He contemplated sending a message to them via one of their tiny, swift owls but he decided it was too much of a risk.

Eventually, Dan Finan returned, and he too said that his contacts had not heard of anything. Nor had any of his research or any leads uncovered anything more than a few rogue wizards who posed more harm to themselves than to others.

Another day passed, and still another, and Thessanos was still gone.

They were basically twiddling their thumbs as they waited idly. There was nothing to do, they had done all they could, and yet they were fruitless in their efforts. It was infuriating, but they could do nothing but wait for Thessanos before they decided their next move.

"If anything," Neville had remarked, "His prolonged absence might mean he actually found something."

"Or that he's dead," Brian said with a flat tone, no emotion showing whatsoever.

Neville winced slightly at that, "Let's hope not."

They were soon reduced to playing games with each other or reading some of the books in Ron's library. Ron was to the point that he was considering beginning to read as well, wondering if any tomes in his library might shed light on the matter.

Later that evening, there was a commotion outside. Everyone sprang into action without a moment's thought, wands in their hands as they sped outside ready to fight.

At the gates the two guards lifted a limp man from the ground. It was Thessanos.

* * *

_Stay calm_, she told herself. Hermione had asked Flitwick for a practice duel. She had to get her edge back and it had been many months since her last practice duel. It was not her spellcasting that was the issue, of course, but practicing spells on inanimate objects or on conjured or enchanted ones were different from fighting against someone who could actually fire back.

As they walked away from each other, wands drawn high, Hermione slowed her breathing though her heart still raced. Flitwick even at his old age was a formidable opponent, and he was not to be underestimated.

They stood roughly thirty feet apart in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest. Magical barriers were erected to protect the surroundings in case of errant spells, and McGonagall had elected to watch and make sure the barriers held. It wouldn't do to hurt someone or destroying something inadvertently while practicing after all.

"Shall we?" Flitwick asked, a slight smile playing on his lips as he held his wand high and ready.

Hermione nodded, and so it began.

Neither combatant moved at first, but there was a slight tension in the air. It was almost as if they were fighting merely with their minds, which would actually be accurate. They had begun with a legilimency battle, testing each other's mental strength. Finding each other to be formidable, they finally began to move.

Flitwich launched several spells at once, wordlessly, as he flipped through the air. A constant stream of spells spewing from his wand like a machine gun.

Hermione reacted quickly, deflecting the ones that got to her first while leaping and sidestepping those she could avoid, all the while firing back at Flitwick with a few of her own spells.

The floor beneath Flitwick cracked and in seconds stone hands lashed out to grab onto his legs. With one quick motion of his wand the stone hands cracked into a thousand pieces as he sent a blast of frigid air at Hermione, who reacted by throwing up a powerful energy shield. Again they fired back and forth, neither giving ground.

Hermione was slowly beginning to tire, her magical endurance not being as strong as it once was. Flitwick, meanwhile, seemed unperturbed and continued at his fast pace as he searched for a weakness in her defense.

His leaping around and his diminutive size made him a very difficult target. Hermione tried to match his constant movement, but she was not as quick or as nimble as the Charms professor. And with the distance at which they were fighting he was having an easier time dodging her spells than she was dodging his.

She labored to move closer, and when she got to about twenty feet away she began casting with both hands. While she could do moderate spells wandlessly, her spells with a wand were definitely still more powerful, and wandless magic sapped at her energy more. She needed to get an edge though, and she knew Flitwick could not cast without his wand.

Surprised indeed, Flitwick made the ground in front of him explode upwards into a stone wall, absorbing much of the damage and obscuring him from view. A large cloud of dust also hid him, and Hermione cursed as she dove to the side barely in time to dodge a spell that flew towards her from her right only fifteen feet away this time. Flitwick sure was still fast as he emerged from the dust cloud.

Hermione, with a flick of her wrist, stirred the wind to blow away the cloud while she used her wand to transfigure the earthen wall Flitwick had created into a giant golem.

Flitwick grinned as he jumped up what seemed ten feet as the golem's fist smashed into where he used to stand. Three large blasts later and the golem was reduced to rubble, though not without leaving Flitwick vulnerable for a split second as vines appeared out of nowhere to wrap around him, tightening their grip. Hermione then sent several stunners dove to the right, and did the same in a matter of seconds and just as Flitwick managed to release himself he.

He barely managed to dodge the first wave and erected a shield in time to absorb most of the second wave though one of the stunners managed to get through and clipped him on the shoulder sending him spinning. Because it was not a direct hit, however, he was merely dazed. As the master duelist he was he quickly got back on his feet and threw himself to the side again as more spells whizzed by where he had stood just moments before.

Hermione shook her head, she had slowed down as well. She was getting tired, and this had to end, though she was sure Flitwick was finally tiring as well. Sure enough, the old professor was beginning to pant from the exertion.

Flitwick twirled his wand and soon sharp, suddenly hardened blades of grass launched themselves at Hermione, who destroyed them by letting loose a stream of fire from the tip of her wand, disintegrating the blades of grass.

Using her left hand she levitated baseball-sized rocks as she fired off spells at Flitwick, who returned them in kind. Again they were able to dodge or erect shields, but this time Hermione sent the rocks hurtling towards Flitwick. Right after which she made the earth beneath Flitwick collapse a little, causing him to lose his balance slightly, and then sent a torrent of stunners his way.

For good measure, she also quickly squeezed in a few binding charms to immobilize him in case he managed to defend himself properly.

The professor, suddenly overwhelmed, managed to destroy the rocks and block most of the stunners but the binding charm, which Hermione sent at him from her left hand, managed to get him and before he could undo it two stunners managed to hit him square in the chest.

Triumphant, Hermione walked over and revived him.

"Impressive as always, Hermione," he said with a small smile, "I believe I am getting a bit too old." He chuckled at that and Hermione thanked him for allowing her to practice against him.

"Anytime, Hermione, anytime. I do love a good duel," and with that the small professor waved his wand and repaired the damaged ground and brought down the barriers surrounding them.

Headmistress McGonagall grinned and clapped, "Well done, Hermione."

Though she had won, Hermione knew Flitwick had not gone 100%. Neither had she, for that matter, for it was merely a friendly practice duel. But she was still content that her skills had not diminished so much.

As she followed the two older professors back onto school grounds, she could not help but feel that tingling sensation again that something was watching her.

She froze, wand gripped tight in her hand and then turned around, eyes scanning. She saw nothing out of the ordinary though, and decided to ignore the feeling for the time being. Nothing would happen, especially since McGonagall and Flitwick were mere yards away.

Turning around, she quickened her pace to catch up to the other two.

That evening a house elf informed her that the Headmistress had checked the wards and they were all fine as far as she could tell. There were no signs of tampering or anything amiss. Hermione still could not help but feel that there was something they were missing.

"Miss Granger," said the house elf, "house elves also here protect the castle. We will make sure no harm comes to anyone!" With a soft pop the small elf disappeared.

His words helped soothe some of Hermione's worries, and she slept restfully that night for the first time in a while.

* * *

Ron cleared out a space on the table as they laid Thessanos on the table. The obvious wounds were deep gashes on his right side and bruises everywhere. Some blood trickled from his nose and there were cuts and scrapes all over him. He was mumbling incoherently, his skin feverish.

"How bad is it?" asked Ron as Neville, who was the best trained in the healing arts among them, scanned the Greek.

Neville shook his head, "Bad." He instructed the others to begin healing his minor wounds as he concentrated on healing the larger ones on his side. "Three broken ribs, two cracked ribs, a bruised sternum, dislocated right shoulder, broken right wrist, and this deep gash... almost as if he was clawed.." he finally managed to say as he strained with the effort of his healing magic. "And there is poison in his system. I am not sure what it is, but it is making him very ill."

Somebody managed to get an ice pack and placed it on Thessanos' forehead. He groaned and moved his head a little, but otherwise the only movement was his chest moving up and down with each breath. His minor wounds had been healed in a matter of seconds thanks to their combined efforts.

Unable to help without interfering, Ron walked outside to the guards to question them.

"What happened?"

One of the guards said, "He apparated at the usual spot, sir, and he staggered forward a few steps then collapsed. We had just lifted him to his feet when you arrived outside."

Ron's fists balled tight in frustration. Who had done this? And why? Was it their new enemy? There were too many questions, and very few if any answers.

"Anything else?"

The guards looked at each for a moment, contemplating, but then shook their heads. Though one did mention that Thessanos did not carry his wand with him.

Heading back inside, Ron confirmed that his wand was nowhere to be found.

Neville looked grim as he walked over to Ron, having done what he could to heal Thessanos. "The posion is working its way swiftly through his body. I do not know what it is and I cannot stop it. We need to get him to St. Mungo's immediately."

The tall redhead nodded, his face completely serious though devoid of any other emotion. "Very well, but we must get the information from him before we do so." His voice was calm. His eyes, however, betrayed his anger.

Neville looked quizzically at him, "And how do you suppose to do that? He is barely conscious, Ron."

Without replying, Ron walked over to Thessanos and looked straight at him.

A soft whisper escaped his lips as he said, "Legilimens."

His consciousness flew into Thessanos', who at any other time would have had defenses up. And though there were still some passive defenses to his mind, due to the immense pain and duress he was under his mind was in disarray.

Through their temporary mind link Ron could feel his pain and anguish, but he could not feel the coherent thoughts of the Greek. They must be buried deep within to protect him from the pain. He dug deep into his mind, aware of the ever increasing pain. Smidgens of memories flooded him here and there, but again there was no cohesion as everything in Thessanos' mind was in chaos.

_Come on_, he saidas he delved deeper into his consciousness, carefully avoiding barriers and pushing through gaps and weaknesses that appeared. Finally, he was able to get in touch with Thessanos, who recoiled at first from the contact and began to counter-attack, but then realized who it was.

_I am dying!_ came the first few thoughts of Thessanos as he projected it towards Ron.

Ron frowned, _We can still save you. But for now, Thess, I need to know what happened._

Thessanos struggled to provide a coherent answer, but it was tough, so much so that Ron believed the poison was beginning to affect his mind. But he was strong, and he managed to tell him what he knew.

Thessanos had received a tip from one of his deep contacts that there was indeed a vastly powerful and shadow organization that had sprung up seemingly out of nowhere over the last few years. Perhaps they had been in Europe for a long time, but it was only in recent years that their activities became more frequent. They were extremely good, thoroughly connected, and very well financed. They were, essentially, a nightmare for any Magical Law Enforcement Agencies.

The Greek had discovered, after some time, research, and care, the location of one of their agents. Intending to surprise and capture this agent, Thessanos set up a trap. What he did not realize was that he had been watched the whole time. The hunter had become the hunted, and as she sprang his trap and caught his prey, so was the trap set for him sprung.

Realizing his folly, he fought as best he could, but they were too many and far stronger than he expected. Another thing was that they had some kind of animal with them. It seemed like a werewolf, but it was not for it was different. Thessanos tried to pull up a mental image of it, but it was distorted and hazy as the poison slowly attacked his mind.

_What are they called?_ Ron asked, _We don't have much time._

After another struggle, Thessanos' thoughts projected towards Ron before the mind link severed. _They have many names... The Black Host is one of them... but I heard t__hey call themselves... The Repears_.

Ron stood for a few seconds in stunned silence. There at last was a name. The name of their enemy, who was still very much faceless, but now they had a name for them and so they had somewhere to direct their energies to.

He quickly snapped out of it as he ordered Neville, Max, and Susan to take Thess to St. Mungo's for treatment. He also instructed them to stay and guard the Greek.

"I will call for you when I need you," he told them.

They left with great haste, Thess' breathing having slowed considerably. They only hoped they were not too late.

Ron repeated their name in his head.

_The Reapers._

A shiver crawled down his spine.

* * *

**AN: **Keep calm and read on.


	6. Bait and Trap

Here's another one. I hope you are still intrigued by my story.

**kaji21**

* * *

**Bait and Trap**

They had a name for whatever dark organization was plotting its machinations on Europe. What they still lacked was a face to the name. Aside from the agent that Thessanos had discovered worked for the Reapers, nobody knew where to begin. And it appeared that they were being watched - as the Greek wizard had said to Ron, in this case the hunters had become the hunted.

Speaking of Thessanos, he had been saved from death. Unfortunately, the healers at St. Mungo's could only stop the poison from continuing further; the damage the poison had already wrought was too great and the Greek was merely a shell. Much like the Longbottoms, except with even a lesser chance of returning to consciousness.

It was a cruel fate, but the hope that he would return and that he may be healed still clung to them and so they stayed the pity death.

They had set about trying to, very carefully, glean any and all information they could about this secretive group.

Ron was in study, reading reports from the other squads. After he had given his report to his father, who passed it down to each squad leader, he had begun to receive more information and support from the Ministry. His success had them hoping that there would be further gains on the matter.

A light knocking on his door stirred him away from the reports and he bade whoever it was to enter.

His father, looking very much exhausted with dark circles under his eyes and a gaunter look about him, walked in. He had in his hands a folder, which he handed to Ron as he greeted his son.

"How are you?" he asked seriously as he sat down heavily. Leaning back and sighing as he waited for a reply.

Ron opened the folded, though his eyes remained on his father. "Tired, though you look worse," he remarked, "Do you think this will really be another full-scale war?"

The question caught his father by surprise, a surprise that he quickly hid behind an emotionless expression. He was getting quite good at that, especially since he had to work around so many politicians nowadays.

"I-... I'm not sure, son. The potential is there, but when and how they will strike I do not know. That is why we work day and night to counter them," he said with a frown forming.

The younger Weasley finally looked down at the papers in the folder - they were all intelligence reports from the international Ministries - he would take a look at those later, he decided. He closed the folder and leaned forward as he set his gaze on his dad.

"I hope this doesn't turn into a war," he said, "I already miss playing Quidditch..." and partying, he didn't add. All this work was beginning to take a toll on him; he hadn't worked this much or this hard since the war. And though it was not one yet, it sure was starting to feel like one.

Arthur Weasley stood then, "I hope that this is nothing more than a rogue group of dark wizards who fancy attacking officials and nothing more. While that is still a problem that must be addressed," he paused, "it would be better than having another war. Better indeed." He contemplated a moment, his expression still unreadable and then he turned and left without another word - probably off to go talk to one of the other members of his team.

He looked down at the folder and opened it up again, beginning to scan some of the reports. About halfway through them and several hours later, he concluded that there really wasn't much information to be had. At least, not yet. Their enemy was too cunning, too well-connected, and too determined. They were no doubt several steps ahead of them in this game, but Ron needed to know how far they were left behind and how he could make up that gap.

They needed information, without it they were striking blindly in a dark room against an opponent who can see clearly in the dark.

Then an idea formed in his head, one that he did not think would be much approved of, but it would work. It _had _to work.

He stood then, the folder of reports forgotten on his desk as he left to round up his squad. He would most definitely be needing their help.

About an hour later everyone was back and assembled, except of course for Thessanos, who Ron had inquired about when Susan arrived. She told him with a grim look that there was no change in his condition and Ron let out an exasperated sigh. What tendrils of hope he had were quickly severing.

"Okay, I have a plan to lure them out in the open and potentially capture a few of them," he started off. He knew from the moment he said that that he had their undivided attention. Here was a chance at last to avenge what happened to Thess. He hoped that the plan worked, because if it didn't he did not know what else to do.

* * *

Hermione looked up from her breakfast as the owls came flying into the Great Hall. Letters, newspapers, and packages were deposited all over.

She was surprised by a small owl that zipped over to her and began circling her head. It chirped excitedly, and Hermione rolled her eyes at it.

Even through the years Pigwidgeon, or Pig for short, was still the same highly energetic and excitable owl. It was of course Ron's owl and she was curious as to why he would send her something. _Perhaps it was an invite to another party_, she mused. She wouldn't really mind that actually.

Opening the letter, she read:

_Hermione,_

_I need to speak with you in person. It's extremely important._

_Meet me at my Mansion later tonight. 8 o'clock._

_See ya soon,_

_Ron  
_

Intrigued, Hermione folded it back up and placed it in her wondered what on earth he had to say to her that was so important she had to see him face-to-face for it. Whatever it was, she had a bad feeling about it. She just hoped that her feelings in this case were wrong and that it was nothing too serious.

_Maybe he got someone pregnant..?_ she shook her head and grinned at that thought as she finished her meal.

* * *

Ron was nervous. He hoped this would work, otherwise he had no hopes of engaging and capturing the enemy without them acting first.

He had instructed his team to position themselves around a certain area outside a small town near where his mansion was located. He would walk to town, as he has done sometimes in the past, and it would be at night when an attack would be most likely.

"This is madness," Kathryn muttered, shaking her head, "But I like it."

Brian shook his head, his lips tugging ever so slightly into a grin as he heard that remark.

Before they had departed, they had looked at each other and each one spoke the same words: "For Thess."

Satisfied that he had laid his trap well enough, he also alerted the other squads, and they were ready to come in at a moments notice should he give the signal by twisting a ring he had on his right ring finger twice. That would be their signal, and it would draw the other squads to him almost immediately.

"Good luck, Ron. Don't do ahnythin' stupid," Dan had said, "tho this is already ah little stupid if ya ask me."

"It will work." He told himself that, and true enough it was their only real chance.

When he had told his squad of the letter he received, they not only expressed outrage at him not telling them sooner but despair. They were surely being hunted, and their gazes looked warily outside after that. Ron reminded them that they were after him, and that he would be the one being watched, and so that should give them an advantage. And unlike Thessanos they would have numbers and not be overwhelmed. Or so he hoped.

He had sent a letter to Hermione earlier, and he hoped she would arrive before he left. The clock ticked past 8:30 in the evening. He was supposed to leave already, but he lingered a little longer.

_Come on Hermione! Where are you?_ his heart pounded a little faster.

8:35pm.

He could not wait any longer. He hastily scribbled a note and left it with one of his guards, careful to seal it first to make sure the guard wouldn't read it out of curiosity. He knew they would not do such a thing, but it paid to be safe.

He walked out through the gates and began to walk down the road, the lights of the town in the distance.

* * *

Hermione was late.

She had gotten so absorbed in her reading of a new book she found titled, _A __Treatise on Magical Energy_. When she looked up, she scolded herself as she changed into something more appropriate as she had been wearing her pajamas. Frantically putting on some jeans, she stumbled a bit but managed to save herself from falling.

She quickly went to her apparition point and left, arriving a moment later in front of Ron's mansion.

Acknowledging the guards she quickly jogged inside and almost completely ignored one of them calling out to her. Thankfully, a part of her mind registered his call and she turned around.

"Excuse me miss," the guard said as she strode over to her, "Master Weasley left this for you. He had to leave, but he should return later. He instructed us to tell you to wait for him if you could."

Hermione took the note from him and thanked him. "Did he say when he would be back?" she asked.

The guard shook his head and then went back to his post.

* * *

Ron could feel eyes watching him, almost boring into his head.

He was not sure if that was him being extra paranoid or because there really was someone watching him. It was a chilly night and the moon was waning, providing a bit of light. The street lamps were few and far between, but provided more illumination.

He had his hands in his pockets, which made sense given the chill in the air, though it was also because he held his wand in his pocket. He gripped it tightly.

He tried his hardest not to look like he was searching for someone, but he could not help glancing into the trees and bushes that lined either side of the road. He wondered if they were out there. He knew his team were hiding in the trees, he had given them specific instructions to be extremely stealthy and discrete about it. Ron hoped they were not seen as they got into their positions earlier that evening.

He had instructed them to apparate into town and come from there, instead of from his mansion. Since he knew they were only watching him, at least he hoped they were, that meant nobody would expect them to have set up the trap that was about to be sprung.

The wind rustled the trees and Ron stiffened, stopping by one of the light posts. He was halfway to town already and figured this would be the time they would strike, but nothing happened. He pretended to look up at the stars as he continued walking, though his gaze darted back and forth between either side of the road every now and then. He was beginning to get frustrated again.

Just as he was about to give up, about three-quarters of the way to town, multiple jets of light erupted from either side of the road.

Using his Quidditch skills, he thankfully managed to throw himself onto the ground and all the spells did were whizz over where he had previously stood. Rolling on the ground he cast several protective barriers and shields on himself as he tried to assess how many enemies there were.

Ron got into a crouched position, wand at the ready. They had yet to show themselves, and he realized now that perhaps he should have thought about his plan more. Nevertheless, it was too late now and he had to see it through to the end.

"Show yourselves!" he yelled as he sent some spells flying randomly into the brush.

Dark figures, barely discernible in the dim light, emerged from the bushes. He counted ten of them.

_Good_, he thought, _they fell for it_.

They all had their wands up, and he knew he would not be able to escape their next attack unscathed.

"NOW!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

From out of the trees some parts of his team emerged, some close by others a little farther away. Spells had already flown and three of the dark figures had crumpled to the ground.

One of them hissed and another let out a rather animalistic roar that made Ron shiver slightly in fear. He had already started moving, attacking the dark figures but they were well-trained and held their own. Suddenly, more of them appeared out of the brush and he counted those who joined the fray to be five more, but Ron's team still had the momentum.

His Quidditch-trained reflexes allowed him to dodge many spells and his shields absorbed the rest as he fought one attacker into submission, eventually stunning him and sending him flying into a tree.

A rather nasty spell managed to break through his shield though, slicing a wound into his left shoulder. He hissed in pain, clenching his teeth as he put up some more shields and counter-fired.

"Ron!" cried Neville as he rushed over to him. He was the only one who managed to get through to him, the rest were still fighting all along the road. "There's more than we thought," he said frantically as he dueled with two attackers at once.

"I know, I saw five more come out of the bushes."

"Yeah, but there's another group that emerged down the road. We need reinforcements," Neville told him, making Ron realize just how much trouble they were in.

"Cover me," he said as he grabbed the ring on his right hand.

Neville cast a complicated globe shield that encompassed both of them. It was a powerful shield, but it had to be sustained and so you could not fire spells while you had the shield up.

Numerous spells battered at it, making the shield glow, but it held.

Ron spun the ring around twice, activating the distress beacon that would call the other squads to him. "Alright, I got it."

With that the shield disappeared as Neville went back on the offensive. Ron managed deflected some incoming spells and was about to retaliate when something launched into him from the side. He saw the movement and turned but whatever it was, it was fast. Much faster than Ron.

He grunted and saw red as he collided with the ground, whatever it was that attacked him landing heavily on him. The wind was knocked out of him in a hurry. The unknown attacker got off of him and left him there. Ron rolled over a little. He had landed on his right side, and his right arm hurt. He realized then that his wand was missing, and he hoped it was not broken. Groping around in the dark, he tried to find it.

At that moment, two dark figures appeared over him. Rough hands grabbed his arms and he tried to fight them but he was still too disoriented and sluggish to do any damage. A strong fist slammed into the side of his head and all he saw was darkness as the sounds of battle faded away.

* * *

_Stepped out, urgent business. I'll be back later._ _- Ron_

The note looked like it was scribbled in a hurry and again she kicked herself for not getting there in time.

Hermione had settled into the small library that Ron had. It did not have very many interesting books, but there were some she had not read before on subjects that were rather dull. But a book was a book, and she liked to read. Besides, she could do nothing else to pass the time.

Teady had given her some hot chocolate, which she had requested and now sipped at it. The warmth it brought plus the rich chocolate taste improved her mood considerably.

She was halfway into a book when she heard voices from down the hall. Wondering if that was Ron, she went to go check.

She walked into the foyer and stood in shock as four strangers, their robes dirtied, torn, and bloodied were talking frantically. They were sweating and breathing heavily, and they turned when they saw Hermione.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but then someone else walked in and started to say something, "They've got Ron..." and he stopped as he realized Hermione was there.

"Hermione!" said the man who had walked in.

She realized it was Neville and greeted him back, "What happened? Who's got Ron?" she looked at the rest of them, "What on earth is going on?"

Neville motioned for her to come over to him as the group of four began to talk in low tones with each other. They eyed her warily.

"Well," Neville began in a hushed tone of his own, as if he did not want to be overheard, "It's a long story, but... there's something worse than Death Eaters out there and they've managed to get Ron. I'll explain later, but right now we're trying to clean this up and hopefully find Ron."

Hermione stood there in silence, digesting what little information she gave him and resisted the urge to ask the dozens of questions that popped into her head. Instead, she looked up at him and with an unwavering stare said, "What can I do to help?"

* * *

Arthur Weasley sat in his office at the Ministry, eyes staring blankly into space. His mind was in turmoil. News of his son's capture had reached him and he still could not process that information. He knew he had work to do, and he had to work doubly hard now that his son was in the hands of these so-called Reapers. There was too much uncertainty, too many unknowns.

A rap on his door took him out of his thoughts.

Brian Morell, the American on his son's squad, walked in. He did not look happy, then again nobody did nowadays.

"We lost five, with ten injured, three critically so. We managed to kill six of them and injure another six, capturing the injured ones. They're in custody now under heavy guard," he told Arthur. "It was a tougher battle than expected," he added matter-of-factly.

All Arthur could do was nod.

"What are your orders, sir?"

He took a moment before he responded, his voice sounding far away to him. "Interrogate them. We need information."

Brian turned to leave when Arthur called out to him, "Brian, " he said, "Did you... did you search the area? Perhaps he..."

The American cut him off, "We did, sir. The only thing we found was his wand." As he was closing the door he paused and looked at Arthur, "Don't worry. We'll find him."

That statement barely reassured him. Arthur had scarcely moved throughout the entire conversation. His body was stiff and he actually began to feel his muscles ache. But he still did not move. His mind was so preoccupied everything else was unimportant. Not really a religious man, Arthur prayed then to whatever gods were up there and asked them to keep his son safe.

"Stay strong, Ronad. We'll find you," he whispered to himself.

* * *

Hermione was in the kitchen munching on some cookies. She was still in shock. Things had happened so fast. She thought the were at peace, that there would be no more fighting or war while they lived. She could not believe that the peace Voldemort's defeat had brought had only lasted for a short while. She drank some water, wondering what the situation was. She only wished she had gotten here beforehand and talked to Ron - perhaps that was why he needed to speak to her. She could have been able to help him and he would still be here.

Neville walked in then. His robes were still dirty, but his wounds had been healed and he was no longer bleeding or covered in blood. He looked exhausted, though his eyes were full of energy. He did not smile when his eyes met Hermione's, merely giving a curt nod towards her.

"I wish we were meeting again under better circumstances," he began.

She agreed, "It's been too long, Neville."

"But I do have work to do, so I will get straight to it if you don't mind. We can catch up later," he said and continued after she nodded, "There's another dark organization out there that call themselves the Reapers. They've been active lately all throughout mainland Europe, and only now have they struck in Britain."

Teady appeared with a glass of water for him and then popped away.

After taking a few gulps, Neville went on, "We first found out about this when the foreign Ministries in Europe began to ask us for assistance. We've been sharing information and support since then, but it's been about two weeks since we started and we barely have any information on them."

Hermione absorbed all of this with concern. "So what _do _you know?" she asked him.

"Well, besides their name, there are two things we know for sure. They are very powerful in that they have the gold, manpower, and connections... oh, and skilled wizards and witches as evidenced by tonight's battle. We also know that they have been targeting certain people... important people. They mark certain people and everyone they've marked so far has disappeared, Ron included. We don't know what they do with them, but it can't be good."

"How did you know Ron was marked?" she queried. Maybe that was what he wanted to tell her.

Neville shook his head a bit, "He only told us earlier today, the stupid git," he said, "We should have known this sooner. Anyways, they mark their targets by sending them a letter with a claw or paw print on it. We're not exactly sure what type of animal it is either, we've never seen a print like that before."

Hermione froze, her glass of water halfway to her lips as her fingers loosened. It slipped from her grasp and shattered onto the ground, jolting her out of her thoughts as Neville sent her a worried look and asked if she was okay.

She cleared her throat hard then, and with eyes wide she spoke barely above a whisper, "I... got a letter like that."

* * *

**AN: **Okay, now the next few chapters will focus on Harry. I know you've been waiting for this moment, so thank you for your patience.


End file.
